


Are you insane like me?

by LixaLizz



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Comfort, Drarry, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Harry Potter Thinks Draco Malfoy is Up to Something, Hogwarts, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, One Shot, Self-Harm, Suicidal Draco Malfoy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-22
Updated: 2018-12-22
Packaged: 2019-09-02 00:59:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16776454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LixaLizz/pseuds/LixaLizz
Summary: Harry suspects that Draco is up to no good--again. I mean, why else he would go up to Moaning Myrtle's Bathroom in the middle of the night? He should know better to do those types of things, especially when it's already eighth year.Harry should know better, too, than to question the knife in his hands and just stare.





	Are you insane like me?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [drarryfanfiction on Instagram](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=drarryfanfiction+on+Instagram).



> (will be edited before the new year, so sorry for any mistakes)  
> this story was NOT easy to write (but I wanted to do some Drarry warm-ups  
> so here ya' go) and figuring out a title was hard  
> BUT it is inspired by the lyrics of Halsey's song Gasoline--which is such a bop  
> and when I first heard this song my mind automatically went to some angsty Drarry  
> so  
> fuknig enjoy my friends :)
> 
> (also plz read tags)

The small flicker of fire in front of Harry made him feel comfortable--in some weird way.

He couldn't go to sleep, and well, one thing led to another, and he was sitting in front of the fireplace under the cloak of invisibility. The flames danced in front of his eyes, and he felt mesmerized.The orange hues sent a warm glow on his hands. He wasn't sure what time it was, but he didn't feel tired at all. And besides, all the eighth year students shared dorm rooms and tower and that made him uncomfortable. Though, not so many came back. Of course Hermione was one of them, and Ron.

Some Hufflepuffs came back, but Harry didn't know any of their names. He had to share a room with Neville, again, with them. Harry also expected no Slytherins to come back, but much to his--and the others'--only a handful of Slytherins came back, which included Blaise Zabini and Pansy Parkinson. Draco Malfoy came back, too, which surprised much more of the Gryffindors. But it didn't matter anyway, Draco just--he just really didn't do a whole lot to be his old self. The loud, obnoxious and self-absorbed Malfoy.

He was quieter, and didn't speak up in lessons as much. His stupid mouth didn't even open up _once_ and insult him, like old times. And to be honest, Harry kind of missed those days.

A creak from the floorboards made him jump. He was sure that no one knew he wasn't in his dorm room--at least not yet. He moved his eyes away from the fireplace, to see what made that noise. On the stairs, to Harry's surprise, was Draco himself. He was wearing some type of black robes, which were obviously not his school uniform, but it was obviously meant to be hidden away. It kept him in the shadows.

This immediately got his attention.

_Draco's up to something._

Quietly, Harry could see him tiptoe to the exit, and the swinging painting was silent. After a second or two of Draco's disappearance, Harry got up to follow him. He set the cloak around him in a tight grip, and started walking. Unlike Draco, the tiles of the floor didn't make a sound. He eventually caught up to him, where he made three sharp left turns and a trip down some stairs. 

Draco didn't appear to know where he was going, but he kept resiliently walking.

It was when Draco stopped before entering a stone archway--which Harry recognized as Moaning Myrtle's Bathroom. He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. 

_What is he doing?_

He cautiously entered the bathroom, before quietly closing the doorway. Inside, Moaning Myrtle wasn't in sight, and Draco visibly exhaled. 

Out of one of the pockets in his ebony clothes, came out a knife.

Harry suddenly felt more intrigued. He was only following to see what he was up to--and after the war, he suspected that couldn't do anything harmful since he was so...

weakened.

Quiet.

_Depressed._

All these things, and yet, here they were. In the abandoned second floor girls' lavatory. Where Draco had a knife in his hands, and sour expression, and Harry with a curious eye. And _yes,_ of all things, Harry just had to stare.

Draco licked his lips with anticipation. "Merlin's beard," he said, with a subtle frightful tone, "you're such a failure."

His fingertips danced around the sharp edge, his clammy hands trying to see if it _hurt._

"Trying to kill, Harry..."

He took the handle of the knife and took it steadily in his hand.

"Siding with Voldemort..."

He pierced a gash into his index finger.

"Going with the losing side..."

The tip of the blade traced down his hand, and Draco kept wincing. Blood trickled down his wrist. The smell of the salty fluid took time to fill the room.

"You're such a mistake."

The precise blade made it down to his wrist, and that's where Draco stopped. 

Stalled.

Paused.

Hesitated.

He looked at the knife warily before letting out a cry of despair. His knees buckled and he slid to the ground.

All while Harry could just stare.

Wet, streaming tears stroked down his cheeks, and the cry of a baby seemingly came out of his mouth. He was sobbing silently. Draco shakily touched his left forearm after a minute of quietly weeping, tracing around a faint mark. Harry had to strain his eyes to see what it was--until he noticed it was the Dark Mark. It wasn't bold and black anymore, Harry noticed, but rather a light gray, making Draco's skin look old and frail.

The ink black knife was next to his foot. He crouched down so he could see it better. The handle was intricately carved, with feather-shaped cuts in it. the design was enchanting; it was very hypnotic. The handle wasn't wood, but it wasn't plastic either. He wanted to reach for it--he wanted to feel it. Instead, he watched silently as Draco tortured himself.

Draco's hand extended forward, grazing the foot of Harry. He didn't seem to noticed, and went on to picking up the steel-tipped knife.

"You really are one," Draco whispered to himself, tightly grasping the black handle. The tip dug into the side of his joint between his arm and hand. "Agh," he groaned, as he pushed the knife deeper into his skin.

Harry couldn't stand it anymore. He walked closer to Draco--setting himself right next to him. He didn't know how to approach.

Draco mumbled some curses and abruptly through the knife across the room in a fit of rage.

"YOU"RE A COWARD!" he screamed at himself. He got up and shook off his hand, as if he didn't just cut open his skin and cried for doing it. He still winced, though, and clenched his jaw.

At the sound of his voice, Harry jerked backwards. He was startled by the sudden frustration. He watched as Draco stumbled across the room to retrieve the knife

Harry couldn't take it anymore.

He watched helplessly (though, not as helpless as he thought), and held his breath.

**Author's Note:**

> ah fcuk
> 
> Drarry is my weak-spot  
> and this was NOT easy to write


End file.
